Three weeks elapsed, when General Drummond, realizing Riall's danger, hastened from York to his assistance, reaching Lundy's Lane with 800 men at the moment that General Brown, with his reinforced army of over 4,000 men, was within 600 yards of the British outposts. A moment later the contest was on, the bloodiest and probably the most brilliant battle of the whole campaign. It was a bitterly contested fight for seven hours--a death struggle for the survival of the fittest. During the first three hours the British force numbered only 1,640, until reinforced by 1,200 additional combatants. All through the long hours of the black night the battle waged furiously. Charge succeeded charge, followed by the screams of the mutilated and the dead silence of the stricken. Over all boomed the muffled thunders of Niagara. The big guns, almost mouth to mouth, roared crimson destruction. Though bayonets were crossed, and the fighting was hand to hand and desperate, and sand and grass grew ghastly and slippery with the sheen of blood in the fitful moonlight, the British, notwithstanding the advantage in weight and numbers of the enemy, held their ground. When day was breaking, and the American general found his casualties exceeded one thousand, he withdrew his shattered army of invaders to Fort Erie. The British loss was 84 killed and 557 wounded. Lundy's Lane has been likened to the storming of St. Sebastian or the deathly duel at Quatre Bras. Both invaders and defenders exhibited heroism--worthy, in the case of the enemy, of a higher cause. General Drummond was wounded, and a son of General Hull, of Detroit notoriety, was among the killed.
[Illustration: CENOTAPH, QUEENSTON HEIGHTS]
Though the battle of Lundy's Lane, fought on July 25th, was the last great engagement in 1814, and practically ended the war, the campaign was not destined to close without an exhibition of constitutional timidity on the part of Prevost, the man with the liquid backbone. With 11,000 seasoned veterans who had campaigned under Wellington, he advanced, September 14th, on Plattsburg, garrisoned by only 4,000 Americans, and when victory smiled in his face, he actually ordered the retreat. Overcome with humiliation, his officers broke their swords, declaring they "could never serve again," and sullenly retraced their steps to the frontier. This was the crowning episode that destroyed Prevost's reputation. Death rescued him from the disgrace of court-martial.